Fade
by KNW
Summary: 1x4. Heero's everything to Quatre, when news of his death reaches the blonde, an already fragile state of mind is disturbed. Soon both sanity and life begin to fade away as the past melds into the present. Deathfic.
1. Fade

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, or the song Hero, or the song Because You Loved Me, but I borrow them to write good fics. ^_^

A/N: This fic does contain heavy angst and death so don't read it if you don't like that. I was inspired to write it whilst listening to the album Fallen by Evanescence, and following reading The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood, (again I own neither) but ideas, style and themes, may be reflected in the fic. It's written from Quatre's point of view following his receiving news that Heero is thought to be dead. Hope you all enjoy.

For Nakiko.

**Fade**

I'm coming home to you now, my love, my feet crunching on the gravel path, the birds twittering in the trees nearby. I'm coming home to you now, my key turning in the lock.

As I open the door I can smell the dinner cooking, the rich aroma making my mouth water. I can hear your music playing softly. I smile as I see the lights are on and you're sat in your chair, reading. I'm home for you now, my darling. You're waiting there, fresh back from your latest mission. You stand as I come in, happiness clear in your eyes. You wait for me to come to you, and I do. I set my briefcase down in its place beside the door, slipping off my shoes. And then I'm running to you, and you're picking me up, twirling me round and kissing me so tenderly, so lovingly I think my heart might break. Your strong fingers threading through my hair, your tongue brushing against my lips…

No. That's a lie. That's not what happens. Not anymore.

I'm coming home to you now, my love, my feet crunching on the gravel path, the birds twittering in the trees nearby. I'm coming home to you now, my key turning in the lock.

As I open the door I notice the silence, I call to you softly. There's no answer, so I set my briefcase down in its place beside the door, slipping off my shoes, and move further into our home. I call you again but you don't answer. I begin to worry; perhaps you aren't home yet. But there you are, in the kitchen, I can only see your back right now but it's enough to make me smile. Reaching out, I touch your shoulder, welcoming you, telling you how much I miss you. But you grab me; throw me down, my back crashing against the kitchen unit. Now, your hand about my wrist, bruising, pulling me up again, your breath pure alcohol…

No. That isn't true either. I almost wish it were. It would be easier.

I'm coming home now, but not to you, my love, my feet crunching on the gravel path, the birds twittering in the trees nearby. I'm coming home now, but not to you, my key turning in the lock.

As I open the door silence greets me. I step inside and put my briefcase down in its place beside the door, slipping off my shoes. I walk over to the sofa. It's so quiet, so dark, no smell of cooking to greet me. There hasn't been for so long now.

My fingers brush rough material, startling a gasp from me. Your green tank top, did you leave it for me, my love? I raise it to my face, breathing you in, your essence. I know you so well.

Do you remember the times we lay together darling? Do you recall the caress of lips on skin? You used to get so impatient… All I ever wanted was to kiss you, to touch every inch of your skin, to memorise you… Then we'd come together, two become one. That was a song lyric wasn't it? We'd move together, you and I, together we reached another place, our bodies slick with sweat and melded into each other. We were one person, never ending, never beginning.

Then I'd slowly float down from that high place, to be captured in your arms. Are you with me darling? Do you remember the times I pressed my nose against your throat or shoulder? Every time I'd breathe you in. Your top smells like that now. Did you leave it for me?

Reverently I place it down and look about for you, you must be hiding here waiting for me. I wonder where you could be…

I tiptoe, I don't want you to hear me coming. I don't want to scare you, make you vanish.

Then I see you; you're smiling at me. I'm the only one who gets to see those smiles. Quatre's smile, that's what Trowa called it. Quatre's smile on Heero's face. Heero…

_I can be your hero baby. I can kiss away the pain. I will stand by you forever. You can take my breath away._ Do you remember when you sang that to me? I'd organised a get together at my house. It was when we still lived apart, when no one but you and I knew of _us_. There was karaoke, just for Duo. But you said you wanted a go, said you had a special someone to sing to. I could see the love in your eyes when you looked my way. Relena was bouncing; she thought you meant her. She never understood about _us_. And so you took the stage, laughter in your eyes as you sang how you could be my hero. My Heero. And you kissed me. Right in front of them all; I think I was crying; I do that a lot. I'm doing it now in fact.

My finger traces your image, Quatre's smile on Heero's face. Never stop smiling my darling. I know you're listening. I can feel your smile now; you're standing right behind me. But I know you'll vanish if I turn, so I stay still. I want to feel you touch me again my love.

One caress and I'm caught. You always did do that to me. Do you remember the times we'd be walking along? We'd walk along and your arm would brush against mine. I'd gasp. You'd never fail to look at me, amused? Affectionate? What was it back then? Irritated? I'd always blush and look away. You drove me mad with desire.

Now I'm yours. But where are you to take me? You haven't touched me really. That's a lie. You touched me in the past, and set me on fire, just not now, not anymore. I turn and you're gone. Or were you never there?

I set you down. Quatre's smile on Heero's face. It's an image I'll never forget.

There are other images I'll never forget. Where to go? Nightmares and tears, tears and nightmares; that was your life once. That's my life now. I remember when it was your life, too keenly. I remember waking to your thrashing. I'd never seen you cry before my love; forgive me my shock? I kissed your tears away, salty on my tongue. You said I washed the sadness from you. I asked if anything else needed a tongue bath? Then I saw you laugh for the first time too. You're beautiful when you laugh my darling. As when you smile. Quatre's smile on Heero's face.

There were nights when you screamed, nights when I screamed too, not in ecstasy but in pain. We've killed so many. My love, is that why I can't see you? Why you torment me with your fleeting presence. Is this our eternal penance? I think maybe I shall never redeem myself. I've tasted heaven in you my love, now I shall be content in hell. Will you greet me there? We always did find paradise in flames… Though passion and fire vary, as much as both are heated.

I stand now in the doorway to our bedroom, but you know that. I feel your eyes upon me. Have you been watching long? Yes you have. Come with me.

You're sitting at the kitchen table. We're staying in a safe house, just us two. I make the breakfast humming softly, I can feel your gaze and I shiver. The scrape of a chair. You've risen, coming closer. The familiar tug in my chest, the heat of your body, so close and yet so far. You tell me I'm not stirring the eggs right. Your arms come about me and suddenly it's too hot, you aren't even holding me. I watch transfixed as you stir them, the proper way. I don't realise I'm leaning against you until you whisper in my ear. No, not whisper, you saved your whispers for later darling, just your usual quiet tone, asking if I'm ok. I nod; I don't trust my voice.

Weeks later you said I'd done the eggs perfectly; you only wanted to be close to me. Oh my love, come close to me again… but no, it fades. The bedroom again; more memories. Where next my darling?

I'm standing on the ladder. White t-shirt and shorts. Blue paint stains everywhere. You even have it on your cheek darling. Old jeans and a grey t-shirt. I remember it; you looked sexy in anything my love. You're smiling, coming closer. Playfully I bash the tip of your nose with the roller. You looked so startled love, so utterly adorable for a moment. Then you pounced. I shrieked. It was good we hadn't got the carpet yet. It took a week to get the paint from my hair. You thought it brought out the blue in my eyes. Does it still?

It's cold without you love; the world seems empty now, you were my sun. Now you've set and the world has become eternal night. No stars shine, bring me the stars my love. You have before. Do you see?

I couldn't. You had me wear a blindfold, guided my footsteps precisely. You liked to be precise love. Until I made you lose control, I liked that. But no, I'm off course. I was blindfolded. We climbed gradually, carefully, a ladder beneath my fingers. Your hand at the small of my back to steady me, make me shiver. We clear something, later I realise the roof edge, cold wind against my skin. The blindfold is removed. Your arms come about me, warming me and I relax against you. You've given me the stars.

How could you leave me darling?_ You were my strength when I was weak, you were my voice when I couldn't speak, you were my eyes when I couldn't see, you saw the best there was in me._ Who sees the best now darling? The tears fall more heavily now, spattering from my chin. Kiss them away like you always did.

No response. More tears. I wonder if you are watching me. It's dark in here now; time passes so slowly, and so suddenly. Come back to me love, I beg you. There's no sight of you from my window. A disturbance of air behind me. I call your name… A silent echo my only reply.

I close the curtain, rings rattling on the pole. That sound, so familiar; so strange without you.

You're sitting on the bed, music playing softly. Always softly for you. I stand before you. I feel naked. I soon will be. Your eyes rake my form; I blush, moving to the music. It's your birthday. My shirt slips off my shoulders, slides down my arms, falls to the floor. I promised you. Undo the button, the zip. You lick your lips. I feel hot, attractive; no one else makes me feel that way. Over my hips, undulating, down my thighs, I writhe, past my knees, I step out. You're hungry now darling, I can tell. Hook my fingers into the waistband. You sit up a little. Slowly peel them down, baring myself to you. As they fall to the floor, I step towards you. You can't wait and now I'm in your arms, crushed to you, feeling how warm and alive you are.

I fall to my knees. You aren't tangible if you're there. You can't catch me. I can't feel you. One more lie. My heart, I think it's breaking love. Tears burn trails down my cheeks. Darling I miss you, come back.

I shiver; my clothes are gone. I stripped for you again my darling… Should I be scared I got so lost in my past with you? It's my only way to live now. Is that so wrong? I know you'd understand; I know you do. You're here. I have to be talking to someone.

I find my feet. It's difficult. My legs defy me, I shake, tremble. This is all I am without you love. For a while I'm silent, breathing in still air. I long to see you before me my love. Rising, unsteady, I walk. One step before the other. I remember this, before you. Soldiering on it was. One foot before the other. The bathroom door. Through I go, grope blindly for the cord. Ding, and there's light. A memory assaults me.

The gentle lapping of water. Sponge on skin. Soft murmurs. Your lips pressed to the nape of my neck. A flicker of tongue and I melt for you darling. We were fresh back from a mission, together, when I still belonged. Mud splashed skin; you cleaned me slowly. You knew what I'd seen. You knew I'd quit the next day love. Soft touches, warm water, melting; you saved me that night, every night.

Who will save me tonight darling?

A flash of silver. The tiles chill my feet. Dare I? So alone without you, darling. I reach out, clutch my escape. Love forgive me, I'm nothing without you. My face upturned, harsh light; I close my eyes. The tears flow, heavy and salty. Down my cheeks, roll along my throat, slide over my chest. Touch me, save me.

One quick movement. Fire in my veins, darling how it burns. I condemn myself to hell; meet me there? Spattering, hot and salty, not my tears. Another stroke to seal my fate. Darling, just wait.

I'm coming home to you now my love.

I open my eyes. Look down. I'm sorry darling. The blood, it stains; I never thought of that. Fingers uncurl and my destruction drops with a clatter. I turn, weakened already. You're on the bed. I can stagger that far my love, to be with you.

Flames lance along my forearms, burning and delicious. You told me how to do it properly once. It was just an interesting fact to you love. Did I get it right? I lay down beside you; the pain recedes. You vanish, no darling, come back. We'll be together soon. I'm coming home to you now my love. Forgive my weakness, but you're my only strength. I'm coming home to you now.

I lay in silence, the clock ticking. Tick. My vision swims. Tock. Sounds distort. Tick. The world fades before me. Tock. I can see you now my love. Leaning over me. Why are you crying darling? I'm coming home to you now.

Tick.

No! You're fading, darling come back; don't fade too. I'm screaming for you, can't you hear me? Don't fade. I'm coming home to you now.

Tock.

I feel your fingers against my cheek, you feel so good. I taste your tears on your fingertips. Barely see you now darling, where have you gone?

Tick.

Perhaps it was only I who died all along…

Tock…

To be continued…

Questions should be answered in the sequel/second chapter.


	2. Denial

Disclaimer: No, sadly enough I don't own the boys, or the lullaby.

A/N: You are pre-warned that this contains heavy angst and minorly disturbing content. I will not be paying psychiatrist fees for those of you who read on despite this and then claim I've scarred you for life. I do hope those of you not of a delicate disposition enjoy thoroughly however. ^_^ Feedback is always appreciated.

Heero's point of view this time.

Denial

It's a sad thing to be a man without any hope, it's the type of feeling that leaves you looking hollow, with an emptiness in the eyes that regular people, naïve individuals, shudder to look upon. Right now I'm joining those retinues of men who're dying inside, leaving nothing more than a husk, because my hope is slipping away. I'm joining the hopeless.

I don't think I can communicate this feeling to you, not in such a way you'd wholly grasp the acute pain that radiates through me, setting every nerve ablaze in it's own private hell…

I would be the one to get poetic in times of crisis wouldn't I?

Some of you, it's sad to say, will understand all too well what my angle is, and I wish I could say I felt bad for you, but I can't. There's only one person I feel anything for, and it's him who has me contorting in agony right now. Not physical agony, not the type where you'd find me writhing on the floor, a mental kind; the kind that's inescapably there, and you can't run from it.

Some of you are probably wondering what I'm talking about, I doubt I'm making clear sense; I really don't feel like being rational in this situation. He's dying you see, he's fading away, slipping through my metaphorical fingers like so many grains of metaphorical sand. And there's not a damned thing I can do about it, because no matter how fast I run, I'll always be a second too late.

I won't stop running though, I can't. My muscles are aching, my shirt is drenched in sweat, there's a burning in my lungs telling me to stop, but I won't. Never stop, never give up, keep fighting, keep running, I'll get there in the end. Maybe I will be too late to save him, but I can be there as he goes. I have to be.

It's my own fault, that's what makes the hurt so absolute, the knowledge that if I had done things differently, none of this would have happened. Of course my friends would disagree. I never used to have friends, nothing used to matter until him. Once I forgot him… I can't believe I forgot him.

The ache is spreading across my stomach now, a stitch, my body's plea to stop because I haven't really recovered, but I won't, it's only a few streets now. Only so many lengths of neat tarmac and grassy verges with well kept trees. Perfect neighbourhood for the perfect soldier and his sweetheart.

Stones skid across the road as I turn the corner, feet scrabbling on the gravel for a moment. I doubt the house owner will be pleased to know I cut across his front yard so easily, but I can't find it in me to care right now, I'm too busy trying not to cry. I haven't cried in so long.

Perhaps you'd like an explanation, a reason for the mad flight I've embarked on to get home, my feet barely touching the ground and a fearful certainty of his imminent demise in my mind… It's because I left him.

It was months ago, without any real word aside from goodbye, an occurrence he'd grown used to. Every mission is the same now he's left us, he can't know anything of it. He had no idea where I was all those months, I'd told him it would be a quick one, that I'd be home the next night. I'd lied, however unintentionally. Complications, a trap to be precise, left my partner dead, caught in the explosion set to kill us both, and me in a hospital with no memory of who I was.

They told Quatre I was dead just today. They assumed my body had been burnt beyond recognition, one of the unknown corpses. When I was finally on my way back to him, they ensured I'd never really have him again.

Maybe that's bitter of me, to blame them when they never knew, but I can't help it, I don't want to. It's my fault for taking so long to recover, so long to recognise the angel in my dreams was a reality of my past. It's their fault, too, for giving up, for not checking hard enough, for telling someone already fragile that his lover was dead and leaving him to struggle with the revelation alone.

Hold on love, please.

His empathy, it's our gift, and curse too. To feel his love is to touch heaven, you can never be more content. To catch the edge of his desperation and madness as he slips away, certain my presence is a hallucination… that is hell.

A single tear slides down my cheek as I turn into our road, almost falling in my haste, my arms flailing to keep my balance. It's a tiny thing, to represent so much turmoil, so much resentment at the irony of it all.

Irony, that on the plane home I was thinking about the future, how glad I was to remember and how much I wanted to take advantage of the time we had now… Time that's gone now…

I planned to whisk him away on a holiday, Paris one week, then Rome the next, two places he'd always wanted to go. I planned each night out in my head, each candle lit dinner, how we'd go to an opera, visit the art galleries… How we'd spend our nights making up for all the time I've missed. There was one scene in particular I liked playing out, I thought about maybe doing it in the Jacuzzi with glasses of champagne and strawberries, that might be nice… I never was romantic until him, for him, for his smile.

I could imagine the way his eyes would widen as I handed him the box, and the faint grin that would begin as he opened it and saw the ring I picked. That faint grin that starts at the corners of his lips almost hesitantly when he's not sure if you're teasing, then blossoms into his beautiful smile as he realises you're really serious. I wanted him to know I was really serious, to smile for me, his eyes shining with the love he feels.

It's a smile I won't ever see again. A scene that will never become reality. Perfect soldier. Emotionless shell. At least I won't have ruined the image.

God Quatre, don't go, please love, don't leave me, not now.

My hands tremble, trying to get the key in the lock, trying to get past the barricade that keeps us apart now.

I suppose you're hoping I'll get inside and find he's okay aren't you? I can tell you, I won't. You might be wondering what happened, doubting the truth in my words, that he's fragile and would crack so easily. My tale, to you, likely seems a fable, because you'll have heard of the strong supportive Quatre, the one that held us pilots together emotionally through the war, kept us sane through the fighting. Well he is that Quatre, my Quatre, but every person has their breaking point, when something snaps, and his was a mission some time back…

He knew about war crimes, hell, we all did, but the true extent of them, how horrific they can be… That doesn't sink in until you see it with your own eyes, and when it does, you change. It's hard to believe what some human beings can do to each other…

To us, victims tended to be faceless mobile suits, we couldn't have handled it another way constantly. Even using a gun to kill, Quatre always had distance from his victims so he couldn't see them… Feel them.

We went to a town two years ago, sent to get information and reassure the people that we'd liberated… Only to find them lined up along a ditch, throats slit like cattle, men, women, children, left in the sun, faces grotesque, blotched. Flies thick in the air over a myriad of unburied corpses… Even a newborn…

I threw up… But something broke inside Quatre, he couldn't react, couldn't forget, the image burned into his mind, feelings reverberating in his heart from where they'd lingered in the wake of such a slaughter… After that he took his strength from me, and in return I was strong for him.

With me dead to him, his strength was gone though; my promise to stand by him forever had been broken… How can I blame him for his weakness when without him I know I'll fall apart?

I plunge through the doorway as I finally unlock it, landing on my hands and knees, a sad smile creeping onto my lips, so briefly you wouldn't think it there, as I see his shoes set beside the door like normal. But nothing's normal right now.

I crawl into the house, unable to find it in myself to be bothered the door behind me remains wide open; an invitation to the world. Right now he matters most, he's everything to me, and everything's vanishing.

The doorway to the bedroom's ahead of me, but there's a complete terror holding me in its grip, making me too scared to dare approach, go inside. It's odd, because I've never really been scared of anything except him, the way he makes me feel.

Don't leave me, love, please…

I probably look drunk, maybe drugged. I'm staggering, using the sofa to pull myself to my feet because my knees don't want to co-operate in carrying me closer to the horrifying reality I know awaits me. I wonder, if I looked in the mirror, would I see wild eyes? It's a phrase authors like to use, 'his eyes were wild'. It always makes me think of a cow somehow, or a horse that's frothing at the mouth, eyes rolling. The way I'm feeling… Maybe I'm still too rational for wild eyes.

It's strange how in control I feel, despite my legs refusing to obey me, there's a cold clarity to my knowledge of what's going on. I don't want him to leave. I want to enter the bedroom and see him curled up, sleeping, a slight smile on his lips, which widens as he wakes slowly to see me standing at the foot of the bed.

That's not real though. I'm standing at the foot of the bed now and I don't want to believe what I'm seeing, how terribly beautiful he looks to me in this state. He never deserved this. My mouth is trembling, that trembling you get when the tears are shimmering in your eyes and you really don't want to let that sob out. Maybe you're doing it now, hearing this tale, crying for my tragic angel.

Quatre… Come back to me…

My feet aren't really co-operating as I move round the bed either; my knees keep attempting to give out until I sink to them beside where he lies. The sheets are stained with his life, vicious, uneducated swipes at his slender wrists that leave the flesh torn and his death slow.

I hate that I'm glad it was slow, glad he's still here, breathing so very ragged and shallow. His eyes betray the madness that's consumed him, he's looking right at me but I don't think he's really seeing me. He's barely there anymore. I'm too late. I knew I would be.

I raise my hand to my face and find tears, so many tears leaving my vision blurred.

God, Quatre…

Salty suffering on my fingertips I press them to his lips. I think I remember someone saying taste was the last sense to go… I'm probably wrong; I can't even imagine how they'd work that out. My head's a mess right now. Seeing him like this, seeing him go.

Don't leave me, love, come back. I need your strength too…

His chest stops moving and my world shatters. I should give him mouth to mouth. Try CPR… But there's so much blood, it's everywhere, staining his lovely body, his perfect flawless skin. He's so small there can't possibly be enough left inside to keep him alive… I want him to move to badly, want his lips to move against my fingertips, his breathing to warm them, warm me.

Quatre… Where did you go without me?

There's a physical pain inside my chest that's making breathing difficult. I can barely see for all the tears as I grope blindly for his slight form. Pulling him into my arms, I climb onto the bed, rocking him slowly. I can't stop the tears and I'm almost choking on them as I sing in time with my rocking, something Quatre said his sisters sang to sooth him when he was very young, "H-hush l-little baby, don't say a word, p-papa's gonna buy you a m-mocking bird."

I don't know why I'm singing it, I think it's more to myself, because I can't seem to calm down, than to him. I can't accept he's not there, that he's not going to open his eyes any moment and tell me to shut up because he needs sleep, "If that mocking bird w-won't sing, p-papa's gonna buy you a d-diamond ring."

The bloodstains are everywhere though, there's no denying that he's gone. It looks like the scene of a massacre, not somewhere an angel's just been born. He is that now you know, I have to comfort myself that he's happy somewhere, because I can't bear this, "I-if that d-diamond r-ring turns b-brass, p-papa's gonna buy you a l-looking glass."

Quatre, come back. Please come back love. I need you.

Stilling, I brush his hair back from his face and close his eyes. It was breaking me apart to see his pretty eyes stare so blankly, at least closed I can pretend he's still there, he's just asleep, there's no blood stains really, "I-if th-that looking glass gets b-broke, p-papa's gonna b-buy you a b-billy g-goat."

My eyes are stinging and still the tears fall, I tuck his head against my shoulder, rocking again and rubbing his arms. Have to keep him warm, he's no good with the cold, can't sleep comfortably when you're cold, "I-if that b-billy g-goat gets bony, p-papa's gonna buy you a shetland p-pony."

Why did you go without me?

I want him to come back so badly. There's this gaping hole now, one I never really noticed when it was full. It's that place where I could feel him, feel his projected love and caring and now it's gone and I'm alone and as cold as he must be lying naked in my arms, "If that p-pony runs away, p-papa's going to buy you another s-some day…"

He's cooling in my embrace already, or maybe it's just my mind making me believe that, but all the same, I do believe it. I have to warm him up; he gets cold so easily you see. When we went camping with the others I always leant him my sweater because he'd be cold, even wearing his own sat right next to the fire.

Quatre…

He's feather light as I lift him. I'm going to give him a bath, to clean away the blood and warm him up, then I can bandage his wounds so no one knows, so God won't know. I have to do something about that, because Quatre should be an angel, he was designed for it, but you go to hell if you do this, what he's done… Duo told me about it. I have to make God think it was something else, make sure Quatre's happy now…

Come back…

I cradle him against my chest with one arm as I reach the bathtub; still rocking a bit, keep him calm and asleep. He decorated in here, picked the colours out. Shades of green and yellow, warm, reminded him of spring and summer he said. He'd love to be outside with how sunny it was today. Maybe tomorrow we could take a picnic outside, just in the garden if I can find sunscreen, he burns easily.

You can't go…

Holding him carefully, I turn the tap on and check the water to see it's not too hot. I want to warm him up not scorch him, he might wake up if it's too hot and he needs his rest, see? All that blood he lost, needs lots of rest… Leaning down I slide the plug into the hole and lower him gently into the smooth tub, making sure not to bang his head as he lies back, water swirling around his feet already.

I know he's not there really, but I need him to be right now, I need to have this chance to be with him again. It's not right he should be taken from me when I've barely just rediscovered him.

Turning away from where he's lying; I swipe uselessly at the tears trickling down my cheeks still. I don't want to believe this is happening. Oh God… It can't be happening…

My gaze falling on the razor blade he used, I quickly kneel down to pick it up. I have to destroy this; it's evidence, evidence that'll send him to hell not to heaven to be my angel… I know he's not Christian, I didn't miss that in all the time I lived with him, loved him, but I know what the bible says and there's probably something so similar for him. You understand? I can't let him go to hell. My angel.

With trembling hands I take it to the sink, twisting on the taps and glancing over at where he lies in the steadily rising water. What I wouldn't give for him to open his eyes and smile at me right now…

Shaking my head and wiping my eyes I turn to the task at hand, picking up a flannel and carefully scrubbing the blades clean of fingerprints and blood under the flow. I'll make it look like I did it, then he'll get to go to heaven because God won't know. He's meant to be all knowing but just this once he'll be fooled, he has to be. If you've ever seen Quatre you'll know he was meant to be an angel, he has that eternally innocent air about him. This mustn't change what was meant to be.

You're looking down on me now aren't you?

Waving the razor back and forth to dry it when I'm done, I turn off all the taps, and sit on the edge of the bath, watching his deathly still form as I press my fingers against the tool of his destruction, leaving clear fingerprints. Now they'll believe I did it, he'll be saved, no hell for my angel.

Setting the razor on the side I draw a shaky breath, unable to quite comprehend my present state of mind, rational insanity? That's a paradox, but I think that's what I am. Then again insane people shouldn't have insight. Maybe that's why it's rational…

Come back, Quatre, please love, come back to me…

Closing my eyes I lean against the wall for a moment, slumped sideways with my back to the bath, cool tiles against my cheek. I don't like looking at his wrists that way, so brutally attacked; bandaging is what I'll have to do after the wash. I just can't find the strength to turn around right this second. I want to believe he's just resting, a rest he'll wake up from. I wish that were true so badly. I keep looking at the blood smeared on the floor, I can't help it, there's a trail from in here to the bed, a few spatters to start with and a flood on the sheets.

I'm so sorry I wasn't here faster love, forgive me, come back.

I know I should clean the floor too, but right now I can't find the energy, I just want to wrap him up and hold him in my arms and pretend it's all ok and we can still go on that holiday and plan our future together for the next god only knows how many years. We can't do that though, he's gone and I'm on my own again. I wonder how long it'll be before I stop feeling again… I think I might welcome it, if it stops the pain.

Letting my hand drop to the bath water I realise it's cooling and wonder how long I've really been sitting here, it didn't feel like that long. The tears are still coming, a trickle now, but steady and not abating as they roll down my cheeks, dripping from my chin. Another deep shuddery breath and I force myself to stand, wiping the bloodstains from his pale flesh with wavering hands before tugging the plug out and getting a towel to dry him.

He's slumped completely, no question he's gone to look at him. I can hardly bear to look at him like this… It hurts so much when reality is so inescapably there, in my face…

Quatre, why did it have to be like this? Not like this…

Gasping for air between suppressed sobs I pick him up, tenderly but unsteady, wrapping the big, fluffy, yellow towel about his small, pale body and cradling him to me as I dry him. I'm treating him like fine china and the bitter laugh that nearly escapes is mockingly asking why, when I know it's far too late, why still be gentle now?

I should bandage him, I should dress him, but all my strength is fleeing me, so I just stagger as best I can with my precious burden back to our bed. Sliding into it, dressed as I am but for kicking off my shoes, I gather him into my lap, pulling the covers over us and tucking his head beneath my chin again as I begin rocking him once more.

It's eerily silent without his laughter, horrifyingly cold without his smile, and so awfully lonely not to feel his heart beat, not to have his arms encircle me in return. Perhaps it won't surprise you that I find myself singing again. The tears still fall, I can't see that there can be many left now, and the acute pain of his parting is only increasing… So I sing softly until I can get to sleep, like a whisper of a memory in someone's past may have, and with sleep, possibly, will come peace.

"H-hush l-little b-baby, d-don't s-say a word…"

To be continued…

  
A/N: So what do you think?


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